


The Office

by redshoemafia, sororexitium



Series: Working on Together [1]
Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redshoemafia/pseuds/redshoemafia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sororexitium/pseuds/sororexitium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Steve and Tony made love to each other as their relationship builds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Office

Tony stands at the bar, his expensive suit tailored to a tee but still feeling uncomfortable. The room is full of stuffed shirts, business men and SHEILD agents and big money than meant you had to behave and show face even when you'd really REALLY rather be in your lab with the music up and a torch in your hand. He sighs and takes a drink of his watered down scotch.

 

Steve pulled at the collar of his Class A's with one hand. He always felt a little out of sorts when he was dressed in it, always thinking back to the last time he had worn it before he was frozen. With his other hand he rocked his glass, still full with the whiskey Natasha had poured in it. "For show," she said, giving him a sympathetic look. She had then promptly left, taking Clint with her. Steve wishes she had bestowed the same kindness on him. He'd much rather be...just about anywhere else right now.

 

Tony scans the room with his eyes, half people-watching and half looking for a good place to hide from the group of French businessmen who undoubtedly will yammer his ear off about nuclear tech that he wants no part of. Speaking of, he'd better get a move on before the guys from Japan run out of sake and do the same. He lets his feet do the walking and doesn't pay attention until he's tucked off to one side, still nursing his drink.

 

Movement catches Steve's eye, if only for the fact that it's a distinctly different sort of shuffle from the milling crowds of SHIELD-invited-millionaires. He looks over and sees Tony gliding in and around, heading for a discreet corner with a glass of his own alcohol. No one else seems to notice, but Steve has thought that his entire team has left by now. Seeing Tony brings a flash of relief through him, and he wonders if he can get over there without drawing attention to himself as well.

 

Tony is beginning to loathe these sorts of events, despite the fact that this was his element before Afghanistan. Now, he'd rather be alone, or with the small group of people he's slowly starting to consider friends and maybe even family. As he watches, he thinks about the others on his team. Maybe one more than any of the others. Maybe. Definitely. But only because he catches him out of the corner of his eye looking just as uncomfortable as Tony is when the rest of the team gave up on making nice and ditched.

 

Steve catches someone else coming his way, a younger woman dressed impeccably but with a sharp light in her eyes that is nothing like Pepper's or Natasha's. He downs the rest of his whiskey and makes a break for it, managing somehow to look natural as he sets his glass on a staff member’s silver gleaming tray and grabbing something else from another staff member as he made a convoluted trek to Tony's side, hoping that would help a little bit.

 

Tony does his best not to look over at Steve when he suddenly appears, smirking into his glass and muttering, "Feeling a little out of your element, Cap?"

 

Steve feels tense, but some of it eases when he hears Tony's familiar taunt. He sometimes thinks it sad, but he's become very dependent on Tony's somewhat abrasive nature. "'A little' would be the most polite expression in my vocabulary, Tony. I don't see how you can stand to do this every other month."

 

Tony hides his frown from the other man, having been wondering that himself. And definitely not wondering why Steve standing next to him has eased that little knot between his shoulders enough that he can lower them away from his earlobes for the first time all night. Nope. Not. He shrugs and aims for flippant. "You get used to it."

 

Steve really doesn't like the sound of that. He's not sure he would want to get used to the masks Tony obviously has to wear all the time, or the alcohol a staple in his hands to make it look like he was enjoying himself or to make him enjoy this sort of thing, or even the suits that Tony wears like armor. Really good looking armor, but still... "I don't see how you would want to."

 

Tony sighs to himself and bites back on the three acerbic comments that pop into his head right as the words leave Steve's mouth. Pepper would be proud. Maybe. Okay probably not, but still. He searches for a good answer to Steve's comment and surprises himself by going with the truth. "I usually don't. Before... Well, before, I would shake a few hands, get drunk, and sleep with the best looking woman in attendance. Now..." He sighs and lets it trail off, indicating the fact that he's standing in a corner nursing what is actually only his second drink of the night, though he's been careful to make it seem like more, lest people start talking.

 

Steve feels a pang of sympathy go through him, not liking either side of the coin Tony metaphorically handed him. On one side, put on such a strong mask of playboy that it sometimes made Steve flinch. On the other, Tony now hides away in the corner of the room. He tries not to let it turn into a big deal, because with him and Tony, asking for coffee has the potential to turn into a big deal. Instead, he clinks his glass against Tony's in a silent show of support and says, "It figures that we both hate these things enough to hide in a shadowed corner, yet we're the only two left. I don't even see Director Fury."

 

Tony shares his grin with Steve this time, pointing to another shadowed corner where Fury had set up near an hour ago. "Over there. Man could teach ninjas a few things about stealth." He pauses for another minute, thinking over the night and how he got roped into coming to this evening’s festivities in the first place. "If you hate these things as much as I do, why did you come? Couldn't you have batted your eyelashes and said you had something patriotic to do instead?" He winces at the sarcasm in his voice. This party must have him more out of his comfort zone than he realized.

 

Steve gives Tony a half-hearted glare, but he thinks he's getting to know Tony a little better. These barbs are starting to sound more and more like a response to his surroundings, instead of actual attacks on him, personally. The more uncomfortable the man feels, the more likely he is to insult you. "I tried batting my eyelashes, but Fury's response was probably what he gave you. If he has to deal with these sharks, we do to. Although, it does make a fellow wonder why he let the other three escape so easily. Thor, I can understand. He's a good guy, but yeah...not good for 'Midgardian royalty'," he says making air quotes as he'd learned from Tony and Clint.

 

Tony makes a non-committal noise and clicks the ice in his drink against the glass. "Probably let Natasha go because she'd smuggle in knives. Clint because he wouldn't stop her. And Bruce has that giant green rage monster thing going for him, lucky bastard."

 

Steve made a noise of agreement, looking over Tony's worn appearance again, and the nervous ticks he'd been displaying ever since Steve took refuge in this little corner of Tony's ballroom. If anyone should get to leave early it's Tony, no matter how well he can usually schmooze the crowd. Without really thinking about it, he puts his hand over Tony's to stop him from clanking the ice around in his glass. "You think we could make our escape now? You've got to have secret passageways around here somewhere right? Don't all billionaire philanthropists have those?"

 

Tony frowns in confusion at the hand covering his, almost as though he's surprised someone is touching him in a way he didn't initiate first, like normal at these parties. Then it occurs that Steve has said something to him and he replays the last moment in his head and frowns further, because it sounds an awful lot like Steve is asking him to bail out with him and that's... not how it usually goes. Usually it's him suggesting he and his partner du jour go some place more comfortable. And that can't possibly be what Steve wants. It doesn't compute.

 

Steve stares at Tony, and his thousand mile stare that seems directed at him, but still somehow seems like he's trying to see something else, maybe someone else. Steve tries not to feel angry or...or even jealous over that, but it doesn't work. It never works when Tony gets that look. Steve moves his hand over Tony's wrist and squeezes lightly, trying to regain his attention, to make Tony focus on _him_ and their need to just get _out_ of this place.

 

Tony shakes himself, gives himself a good hard slap across the brainpan, and that seems to jar him back to the present. Yeah. Steve just wants to get out of here, get out of that stuffy-ass uniform -no don't think that Tony, bad- and go their separate ways. That makes the most sense. It makes sense but it also sucks, because he was kind of enjoying Steve's company despite the room full of stuff shirt vultures around them. "Yeah. Sure."

 

Steve smiles, relieved that Tony is back with him again, even if it won't last long. He swallows that back, forces it away somewhere else, because it's just better that way. Tony's attention doesn't stay many places for long, and Steve most definitely isn't among the few things he can focus on. He feels a little masochistic though, and lets go of the hand holding the glass to grab the free one at his side, saying, "Get us out of here then."

 

"Right." Tony decides not to mention the hand holding his, though he's got a few choice, asshole-y things on the tip of his tongue. "Follow me then. And for the love of God, don't look nervous. They can smell fear." Tony can feel the mask sliding back into place over his features and there, that's better, even if it tightens his shoulders again. He drops his glass on a passing waiter's tray and maneuvers skillfully through the shadowed parts of the room, deliberately not looking towards Fury's stronghold, lest he give into the urge to flip the man off. Eventually, they slip out a side door and into a hallway that leads to the upstairs of the house.

 

Steve follows behind him silently, enjoying the feel of Tony's hand as he leads them out of this level of Hell and towards freedom. He makes sure to keep looking like this is natural, to make it look like Tony pulls them out of parties on a daily basis and they hold hands while doing it. It's easy to do. A bit of acting in the forties is nothing for cinema today, but it helps with putting on this type of mask, especially when escape is imminent. When they're finally out of the door, Steve breathes a dramatic sigh, still following Tony until he says the coast is clear.

 

Tony makes a show of shivering, full bodied and giving him a good enough excuse to drop Steve's hand before he can get too used to the way it fits around his own. "Next time Fury says we have to go to one of these things, I say we call Dr. Doom and have him blow something up."

 

Steve tries not to mourn the loss of Tony's hand in his, but it still doesn't stop him from recalling the feel of it and memorizing it. Instead he draws himself up mentally and says, "As long as no one's hurt, then I say that...actually sounds like a fantastic idea."

 

Tony rolls his eyes, because of course Steve would put that caveat on it, and it's actually kind of sweet of him. He gets that far away look in his eye as he thinks about how he admires Steve for that ability and about how even though he thought he wanted to be alone instead of at the party, he really doesn't. So, he opens his mouth and lets his thoughts out before his talks himself out of it. "Steve. You wanna... I don't know... do... something?"

 

Steve is suitably shocked and he stares at Tony in disbelief and maybe a small mingling of hope. This is just...something Tony never really does. He goes down to Tony's workshop a lot, but Tony never really asks to hang out. A small part of him hopes that it’s more than that, but he quashes it firmly, not willing to let himself think like that. "What did you have in mind?"

 

"Anything," Tony blurts, but then rethinks how desperate it sounds, "Nothing. I don't know." He could almost kick himself. He doesn't know how to do this. Steve doesn't want him. Doesn't want to be around him. He should go to his lab, build something, turn his music up loud enough that the old farts they'd just left ask each other what that racket could possibly be. "You know what, I'm... you're probably busy. I should... I... yeah." He resists toeing the ground nervously. "Thanks for the company. In there. Back there. Yeah." And he turns to go.

 

Steve doesn't quite know what just happened there, but Tony is all around skipping back and forth in a way that seems really damn familiar if only for the fact that it usually goes on in his head. He turns to leave and Steve can only think 'NO!' before he grabs onto him, grabs onto his hand and holds it again, pulling Tony back around as he says, "No, I don't...I don't have anything to do. Nothing I would want to do without you, anyway."

 

Tony is confused and it's got to show in his eyes. It takes effort, painful effort because he literally bites his tongue against spitting out whatever it took to get Steve to drop his hand and let him go. He's been fighting against himself too long. And maybe, just maybe, he can let himself have a little of what he wants. Not that he's ever been very good at that before, except when it comes to sex partners, robots, and booze. "Okay."

 

Steve smiles a little, nodding. "Okay," he says, licking his lips. He looks at Tony, trying to think of something they could do, he considers seeing if Tony wants to go back down to his lab, because Tony always likes his lab more than almost anything else, excluding the Iron Man suit. But then he sees the way Tony's eyes flicker to his lips and linger for a moment too long and it's really so simple and just a glance, but Tony's mouth opens a little and Steve leans down and presses his own mouth to Tony's, flicking his tongue between the small gap before he realizes what the hell he's doing. He yanks back, stammering, "Tony...I...I don't know what...I'm...I didn't mean...Fuck! I'm sorry..."

 

"Steve... I... no, it's fine, don't... Really. It doesn't mean anything, I know. It's okay. I..." And then he's kissing Steve again, their lips pressing together and sucking, mingling together and it's _good_. Like really good. Like heavenly good. Like pretty sure he's never been kissed like this good. Tony is about to push Steve against the wall and do some very unprofessional things to him when the doors to the ballroom crack to let someone else out. It's enough to break the moment, break the connection between them and gives Tony just enough time to think WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING KISSING CAPTAIN AMERICA IN THE HALLWAY WHERE ANYONE CAN CATCH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT, before he's got Steve by the hand and is racing down the hall to an empty office.

 

Steve follows him quickly, not looking back to see how may have been coming out of the ballroom, or if they saw them kissing. He doesn't care right now, because Tony has a hold of his hand as he races towards his office, and it still feels good, especially after having kissed and been kissed by him. His lips still tingle from the weird perfection of Tony's lips on his, the goatee on his skin, and the tongue that had just been dancing along his lips when they were interrupted. He's almost drunk off of it, so when the door to the office is slammed shut behind them, Steve doesn't even waste time turning on the light before finding Tony's lips again, hands running along Tony's face and up into his hair.

 

Tony moans at the feeling of Steve's fingers as they slide into his hair, gripping tight at his lapels as the kiss escalates into higher, more desperate levels. If he's honest with himself, and yeah, he's got issues with that sometimes, but if he's honest with himself, he's wanted this with Steve for far, far too long. The feeling of the other man's lips on his, the warmth of his body pressed against his, he's wanted it all. And it's a heady feeling to have it now, even if some part of him knows it's fleeting.

 

Steve tries to hold onto his higher senses. He knows this has the potential to be very, very bad, and that Tony probably doesn't even see him this way. He hopes, but he hopes a lot of things that probably aren't ever going to be realized between them. It's hard to focus on all of those feelings though. He has Tony now, and his tongue is pressing against Tony's lips, and his hands are holding tightly in his hair, and his feet are inching slowly closer within Tony's personal space. He wants to hold onto this moment, this connection.

 

Tony shoves his thoughts ruthlessly back into their box and gives them a glare and a stern finger shaking to keep them there. He's got Captain America kissing him and fuck that if they think they're going to interrupt. He backs into the room, dragging Steve with him until he feels the edge of a desk press into his backside.

 

Tony collides into the edge of the desk and pushes himself up, still kissing Steve and it's actually all Steve can do not to rut against him. Instead he breaks away from Tony's lips, press open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his ear, and down his neck. His hands already have their own intentions and are reaching for Tony's jacket, slipping it off over his shoulders before going to attack the buttons of Tony's shirt, trying to actually ease the little pearlescent plastic out of their holsters instead of ripping the shirt apart.

 

"Steve..." Tony whispers it, just letting the name fall from his tongue and he's satisfied with the way it tastes. After a few more desperate, messy kisses, his hands come up on their own and push at Steve's shoulders, worming their way under the ridiculously-perfect-on-him jacket and pushing until Steve has to relent and help him remove it. He almost groans in frustration to see a tie and more buttons in his way.

 

Steve doesn't really let Tony linger on it too long. His head is getting foggy with lust, his subconscious chanting a mantra of 'yes, yes, yes,' as his hands still fucking fumble for buttons. He realizes a little too late that he still has a tie to remove. That comes much easier than buttons. So much fucking easier. He's breathing hard as the expensive silk comes undone beneath his hands and then he gets maybe one or two of Tony's buttons undone, before he lets out a frustrated groan. He puts his hands at the V of Tony's opened shirt to rip it open, the rest of the buttons flying erratically around the room.

 

Tony grunts, having half a mind to mention how expensive the shirt Steve just ruined was. But the way Steve is looking at him, like he's edible or like he wants to fuck him into next week... well that's a little distracting and a little padding to the ego. He grabs Steve's tie and yanks, pulling him back against the desk and against him and diving into his mouth once more. It's too much and not enough all at once. He _wants_ , wants so fucking bad, and it makes him sloppy, messy with his kisses and biting with his nips.

 

Steve makes a surprised noise deep in his throat as Tony continues to kiss and bite at his mouth. He can feel Tony beneath him, skin hot through the layer of cotton that is Steve's shirt and arc reactor pressing into his chest. It's strangely more intimate than it should be and the room is suddenly ten times hotter than it has any right to be. It isn't even close to being enough either. Steve wants skin on skin, and his own hands tangle with Tony's to get his tie off.

 

Tony gives up, letting his shoulders relax and the tension bleed from him. His body wants to submit to Steve, to give in and let the other man have his wicked way until it leaves them both sticky and quivering. He's turned on more than he has been in a long time at the thought of Steve over him, fucking in and maybe even talking, saying filthy little things into his ear. So instead of fighting for first dibs on who gets whom naked first, he relents and reaches up to help Steve with the Windsor knot he'd made of his tie. It whispers off the side of the desk in seconds.

 

Steve takes a deep breath as the tie finally comes off and he takes a brief moment to fight with the buttons of his shirt, staring down at Tony as his fingers fumble, lust-drunk, to get his damn shirt off. Eventually the buttons are sacrificed in much the same way Tony's were, but fuck he doesn't care. Tony looks up at him, mostly relaxed and eyes gleaming in the hazy light coming out of the window. With the shirt unbuttoned, he wastes no time in diving back in, his teeth attaching to Tony's collarbone and sucking hard as his chest comes in contact with Tony's and his hands come to rest on Tony's too sharp ribs.

 

Tony gasps at the suction on his collar, letting his mouth fall open and his head fall back as he feels Steve mark him. He doesn't know if he's going to regret that in the morning, when the lust has faded and Steve has going back to seeing him as an eccentric pain-in-the-ass, but right now it feels too fucking good. He tugs Steve up for another kiss, sloppy and bruising, and pushes his hand slowly down the flat of Steve's stomach, aiming to slip past the waistline of his pants.

 

Steve can't stop another small noise that comes past his lips to be swallowed into Tony's mouth. He's so aroused now and Tony's hand moving down his stomach causes sends shocks of anticipation through him that lingers in his groin and causes hitches in his breath. He's sure that Tony can feel it in him, but he doesn't say anything and for right now that's all the matters, because here in this room, on this desk, and right at this moment, Steve can pretend that this is not the dreaded one night stand Steve always promised himself he would never do.

 

Tony sits up as his fingers burrow into Steve's dress slacks, reaching for the right leverage to take hold of Steve's hard cock. It's all he can do not to blink in shock as the silky-smooth flesh meets his fingers. He knew Steve wasn't a little guy, at least not anymore, but this... he'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased as hell if a little worried it wasn't going to fit. He bites his lip, but the mumbled, "fuck" comes out anyway.

 

Steve can't hear the mumbled groan over the sudden rush in his ears and the stuttering jerk as Tony's calloused hand takes a hold of him and just holds. It can't be comfortable. Tony has just slithered his hand between skin, trousers and his belt and he's already reaching to make it easier. To at least get the belt off because god, this would be a lot easier if there were no belts in the way. He reaches for the buckle, commanding Tony in a hoarse voice, "You should get rid of yours too." It sounds crasser than he means, but it's almost lost because Tony is so close to him, lying on the desk like a buffet.

 

Tony nods, reluctantly removing his hand and reaching for his own belt. It slips past the loops and gets tossed onto the floor with a clank as he's toeing his shoes and dress socks off as best he can from his current position on the desk. He does have to stand again, crowding into Steve's space to let his pants drop from his hips and get kicked to the side and he barely has time to think about where they end up before Steve has him in another kiss.

 

 Steve gets his belt off, and follows Tony's example of shoes and socks, but he gets to stripping off his pants and all mental capacity nearly just halts. Tony's only in his briefs and in the darkness of the room they look like they could be black, not that Steve gives an honest damn, but he can't help but crowd Tony against the desk again, his hand going to stroke him through the soft cotton, memorizing the length and girth and all the noises Tony makes just for him to swallow in desperate kisses.

 

"Oh!" It's probably going to be embarrassing remembering how breathy and needy he'd made one syllable sound when he replays tonight in his head later, but fuck if Steve's massive hand on him didn't feel almost too good. "Yes!"

 

Steve likes the encouragement and probably holds it just a little too close to his heart as he uses one hand to slide behind Tony's neck, holding his gaze in a wholly intimate way as he yanks at the fabric hiding Tony's cock from him, pulling it away but not having the patience to actually make Tony pull them off as he wraps his fingers around actual heated flesh, hard and silky in his hand. He only just has enough sense of mind to lick a stripe up his palm before wrapping around Tony again, jacking him slowly and watching his reactions.

 

Tony's eyes roll back into his head quite without his permission, conspiring against him along with the weakness in his knees that suddenly develops and the shuttering groan that shakes his whole being. Yeah, that's good. It's really good. It's really _really_ good. He manages to convince his arms to work enough that he can slip his underwear far enough down his hips that they fall to his feet without having to make Steve let go, and then he just clings to the hard muscle of Steve's arms as the other man touches him.

 

Steve works with a single-mindedness he realizes he usually only pays to missions. Tony isn't a mission, a goal. He isn't even a conquest. It's just that Steve wants Tony to feel good. He uses the hands on his arms as a gauge, trying to learn quickly what Tony does or doesn't like. He watches Tony's face, the different levels of pleasure that wash over his features, and race down his body in the form of shivers and various contracting muscles as Steve slowly continues to stroke his dick.

 

With a few more whimpers Tony starts to realize how close to the edge he is. The orgasm is building with frightening speed, tingling up his spine and zinging back down to tighten at the base and that just won’t due. If he only gets tonight, if now is the only time Steve is going to forget that Tony doesn't deserve him, then he wants it to last as long as he can. "W-Wait..." And he's proud he managed to push that past his lust tightened throat. "Too close..."

 

It takes a moment for the stuttered command to worm into his brain, aroused as it is, but he does, stilling his hand willfully before taking it away to rest on Tony's hip, his thumb kneading skin as he asks with a voice that could be his own, but sounds nothing like him, "What do you want from me?" It's maybe a little to raw, and way too honest, but _Jesus_ something is going to give soon and he'd rather know now as opposed to later.

 

"You." Tony mumbles it without thinking, without running it through his acceptability filter -which, admittedly is a little fried at the moment- and that one word was far, far too honest. He scrambles to cover and not make an ass of himself. "I want you inside me."

 

Steve tries to hide his disappointment, because the first answer is so much better than the second. He's not sure he's very convincing, but tonight. He can hold onto tonight and he'll deal however Tony wants him to tomorrow. He takes a deep steadying breath and says, "We...we'll need something. Lube. Do you...?"

 

Tony is breathing too fast, his thoughts too jumbled at the thought of Steve fucking him over the desk. He has to work at it to find the part of his brain that houses little bits of information like that, has to work to remember which turns they took and what stairway until he figures out that yes, they're in the third floor office and there should be a tube stashed in the top draw of the desk he's currently pressed against. Tony kisses Steve as he pushes him back far enough to move, headed for the drawer.

 

Steve removes his pants while he watches him dig for a few seconds before he comes back up with what is most definitely triumph, holding a tube of slick in his hand and pressing it against Steve with meaning behind it. If Steve had any doubts over Tony's sincerity, that action alone removes it quickly. Steve feels heavy lidded and addle-minded, but he takes the lube and slathers some onto his fingers, warming it as much as he has patience to before moving between Tony's legs, behind his balls and down, pressing against the small quivering hole and apologizing quietly because the lube isn't quite body temperature yet.

 

Tony gasps at the first press of Steve's fingers, sliding not nearly far enough into him. He forces himself to relax for the other man and leans back against the desk, trying to spread his legs a little wider without losing his footing. "More.... God, Steve more..."

 

"Hold on, Tony...you're so tight..." he breathes, and his breath is right against Tony's thigh, because he realizes he leaning down to watch his work. Once it's hit him, it's almost natural to lean to one side and give sloppy kisses to the skin that's immediately available. He works further into Tony, before adding another finger, finally listening to Tony's demands as he pushes in and crooks his fingers, searching and finding Tony's prostate as he continues thrusting.

 

Tony sobs with pleasure, gripping tight around Steve's fingers. He splays his arms behind him, shoving blindly at whatever's resting in his way and vaguely hoping that if there's a tablet that it lands somewhere soft. Everything marginally out of his way, Tony collapses back onto the desk, letting his legs fall wide and whining, keening for Steve to keep going, for the love of GOD don't fucking stop, Steve, don't. 

 

Steve doesn't actually hear the clatter of everything Tony is knocking off the desk. He doesn't care. His entire being right now is wrapped in the sweet noises Tony is making and the way his body responds to him as he scissors him open and finally adds a third finger into him, trying to hold onto his self-control because he doesn't want to fucking hurt Tony. He can't hurt Tony. He nips at the juncture where thigh meets groin, his fingers digging into Tony's hip as he thrusts and presses into Tony's willing body with his other hand.

 

Tony thrusts down on the digits, needing more contact, more anything, preferable sooner rather than later. He can't think, hell he can't even form words, just reaches up and grips the edge of the desk behind his head and clings to it, pressing his elbows together and whimpering into them. He might let go a few things that would be embarrassing to have Steve hear, but he's sure Steve can't hear him.

 

Steve lays one last kiss on Tony's thigh before removing his fingers from Tony's body and grabbing the tube again to slick up his cock. He watches Tony as he does, wonders so many things that he can't find the voice for all the questions, before leaning down, pressing his lips against the mark he'd made earlier, before trailing up to find Tony's in a dirty, passionate kiss. He nips at Tony's lower lip as he positions himself, pushing in and making damn sure to listen for any sign of protest.

 

Tony groans, scrabbling to finger a handhold on Steve's shoulders as he's entered and _fuck_ that's good. He tells Steve so; writhing against the desk and wanting more, wanting to be taken and fucked open wide. He whispers little words of encouragement, a spare yes, a whimpered good so good, until Steve is buried inside him up to the hilt. Tony can barely breathe around the fullness and the feeling of _complete_ that hammers into his chest. "Please...."

 

Steve shudders at the breathy plead, and nods wordlessly, shifting his stance before retracting almost all the way out and pressing back in, keeping his movements smooth and his breathing even. He tries not to go to fast, he tries, but Tony's moving with him and his tempo is demanding and Steve wants to meet it. "Tony," he breathes, not sure why he's calling his name, but he does nonetheless.

 

Tony loops his hand around the back of Steve's neck and uses it for leverage, hoisting himself up from the surface and curling his abs until he can rest his forehead against the other man's. "S-Steve... Fuck... Yeah, right there. Like that. Just like that, oh Jesus, fuck me." It comes out jumbled and breathless, but with Steve's cock hitting just the right place inside him, he doesn't care. His cock is straining against his stomach, twitching with every thrust, but he doesn't want to let go of Steve for a second.

 

Steve bites his lower lip, bites Tony's, grabs his hips, and then wraps one hand around Tony's cock, working it with his slick covered fingers. He tries for finesse, but Tony's constant stream of words against his face, the overwhelming pleasure that's crashing over him...he's trying to hold on. He wants, no he needs Tony to come apart around him. If he only has tonight, he doesn't want to be lost in his own orgasm and miss Tony falling to pieces because of him.

 

Tony loses the last of his coherency when Steve takes him in hand, pulling up in time with each inward thrust of his hips. He surges up for a kiss, dirty and messy and mostly teeth and tongue until his nerve endings fray and he's done. He collapses back onto the desk and arches his back, coming with a spectacular cry and shouting his pleasure into the still dark room.

 

Steve only lasts maybe two or three thrusts into Tony's orgasm, watching as Tony's come stripes his hand and their stomachs before losing himself inside Tony, gripping hard at his hips and pushing his own release inside Tony. A dark part of his mind proclaims ownership, but as everything subsides and Steve comes back to himself, the logical part of him says, 'no, this is it.'

 

Tony is still breathing hard, tingly from head to toe, when Steve's heavy head flops onto his shoulder and puffs hot breath over his skin. He wraps his fingers into the hair at the base of Steve's skull, stroking affectionately and wishing to himself he could stay here, that they were in a bed and he could have all night before the morning came. But he knows better. When Steve catches his breath, he tilts his head and catches his mouth in a kiss, slow and deliberate and exploring, because he wants to remember every last second, every ridge and bump and flavor he can coax from the other man to remember him by.

 

Steve kisses back, still buried in Tony and recovering from the earthquake that took place inside his bones. He's trying to drag Tony further into his mouth, push his softening dick further into Tony for some lasting connection, when the actual desperation of Tony's kiss starts sinking into his muscles, bones, down to his very core. He grabs Tony's arm in a vice grip. More contact, more balance, fuck, more grounding as he finally pulls away, breathing hard and resting his forehead against Tony's.

 

Tony closes his eyes, forcing them shut so he doesn't have to see Steve look at him with his too blue eyes. He waits for the goodbye, the 'this was fun, but...', the snide 'nice piece of ass' comment that he's pretty sure is coming. He's heard it before. Hell, he's said it before to women and men who _didn't_ matter, or had Pepper say it. And he realizes with startling clarity that Steve _did_ matter and that makes giving in all the more stupid on his part. Steve moves a little above him, and Tony just reacts to it, knee jerk and startlingly fierce. "Don't!" He grabs harder at Steve's shoulders. "Don't... stay. Just for a minute." And as an afterthought, because maybe it'll help, he whispers, "Please."

 

Steve doesn't know what is going on precisely, but this moment is lasting and even though he shouldn't be listening to anything even close to optimistic, he does. He insinuates himself close, listening to their loud breathing in this pitch black room and moving his hands over Tony's skin, any skin he can get, as he says, "Take...take your time. I'll..." he takes another deep breath as he continues, "I'll leave when you want me to."

 

"I don't." Tony winces. He should know better than to talk after an orgasm. It never works out well for him.

 

Steve's breathing almost stops completely. Something in him twitches and twists towards hope and he shouldn't go there. He shouldn't. He doesn't listen though. "You don't want me to leave?"

 

Tony tries, desperately tries to talk his body out of shaking. But there's too much, he can't help the tremors that go through him. He needs to answer this right if he has any hope of working with Steve after this, if he wants to salvage something of a friendship after Steve laughs in his face for wanting more. He should say something, ANYTHING about how he wouldn't kick Captain America out of bed something flippant and sarcastic. Instead.... he shakes his head. No, he doesn't want Steve to leave.

 

 Steve is shocked for nearly a full minute before he nods back. Tony...doesn't want him to leave. Okay. He feels a smile bloom across his face. Tony does NOT want him to leave. It feels so good to think and Steve kisses him, soft and hard, hot and sweet, all at once, because, _fuck_ , "You're sure? Is it...I mean...you don't want me to leave tonight or...or for the next few weeks...foreseeable future?" Steve's putting himself out on a line, but hope hammers hard in his veins. He almost has the childish urge to cross his fingers.

 

Tony, his eyes still closed because he doesn't want to see pity, seriously anything but pity coming from Steve, doesn't see him nod. He startles at the kiss, his eyes shooting open all at once and there's Steve looking at him with concern. It breaks his brain to mouth filter again. "I... Whatever you want, Steve. I don't.... I'm not.... However you'll have me. Just tonight if that's all you want, I can do that." He sure as fuck doesn't want to, but he'll make himself. Maybe he'll even do it without sulking in his lab for a week and not having a polite thing to say for a month, but... that's probably pushing it.

 

Steve kisses him again. "No. No, not just for tonight." He's probably grinning like a loon, but he doesn't give one good goddamn. "As long as you'll have me. As long as we can make this work. Whatever this is. If it's just this or...or going steady...Tony, tell me what you want."

 

Tony's still reeling. He's gone back to his data banks, searching for something, anything, that will give him a precedent for how to act in this situation. He blinks, bites back 'going steady, what are you fourteen?' because that would make him a prick and he doesn't want to be that right now. The thing is, he doesn't know what he wants. Tony's so used to _not_ getting what he wants when it comes to relationships that he's got himself convinced he doesn't want them. "... I... Don't know."

 

That...isn't what Steve is looking for. A distinct 'yes' or 'no' would be helpful here, but of course, he's still buried in Tony, and he's still holding onto Tony, and Tony is still grasping at him so...He licks his lips, the entire action that got him into this mess and says in no uncertain terms, "You can tell me to fuck off. I will. I...I won't..." He brushes that thought away, looks into Tony's still gleaming eyes. "Or we can try, and I...will stay as long as you let me. I just need some sort of answer, Tony."

 

Tony... god. Tony doesn't know how to do this. He's out of his depth here, way the fuck out, far enough that he can't see the shore and he can forget about the Coast Guard throwing his stupid ass a life saver. He swallows hard and curses the pinpricks at the back of his eyes. "You could do better."

 

Steve drags his hand over Tony's face, trying not to argue, because Steve is phenomenal tactician, but when it comes to everyday stuff, he's pretty goddamn useless. He's learned that several times over, and he's learned he has a pretty special ability to make things worse. So he says, "So could you," and he means it. He does, because what person in this time frame wants someone who's stuck in the 1940's and can barely adapt to a cellphone that's ten years old.

 

 The pinpricks at the back of Tony's eyes do NOT become the beginnings of tears, no sir. What Steve said about him being able to do better isn't fucking true and he could pull up diagrams, cases studies, interviews of ex girlfriends to prove it. Instead, he leans up and kisses Steve, solidly claiming his lips. When they part, Tony opens his mouth before he's got time to over think it. "Then, I guess we try." And as a kindness to himself, he edits out, 'until you figure out how much you'll regret it.'

 

Steve feels a shiver go through him and holds back from pinching himself to make sure this isn't a dream. It hasn't felt like a dream up until now, but right now, with Tony offering him the chance, just a _chance_ , Steve isn't sure if this is real or not. "Trying is good," he says stupidly, beginning to pull away. "Trying is very good, but we should probably wash...?"

 

Tony makes a face as Steve pulls out and he can feel sticky come and lube following, probably dripping onto the carpet as he shifts to get up. "Yeah. Shower. That would be good."

 

Steve helps Tony stand, looking around for something to help them with precursory cleaning, but he's not coming up with much. "Is there like...a conveniently hidden rag in this office too?" he asks, because, hell, there was lube randomly stored, why not?

 

Tony is bombarded by mental images at the question and snorts. "No." Because he does draw the line at masturbation on his office and one never knows when one needs some lube to grease finicky machine parts. He turns in his spot and finds his discarded underwear and offers it up to the carnal gods. Once they're relatively clean and he's not leaking... he pulls Steve close and kisses him. Because, well fuck, if they're going to be in a relationship or something, he can do that. Right? Right.

 

Steve grabs onto Tony, sliding one hand behind his neck while the other moves unerringly towards the mark he had left on Tony's collar bone earlier. It feels good to still be able to hold Tony like this, but they do really need a shower and, though Steve has every intention of following Tony wherever he goes, they need to at least be dressed first. "Pants," he whispers against Tony's lips. "At the very least."

 

"Mm. Right. Pants. Good plan. Pants... pants pants pants.... AH! Pants!" Tony grabs them from where they'd been earlier tossed as wriggles into them, hoping he doesn't have stains to explain to his dry cleaners in the morning. Not that they'll be shocked. "Wouldn't want to scandalize Daddy Fury's friends." He pauses. "... Don't tell him I said that."

 

Steve laughs a little, reaching to find his own pants and then finding his mutilated shirt to pull over his shoulders. He grabs their ties, puts his over his shoulders and Tony's over his. He'll come back for the jackets later, or...maybe he'll leave them here as a reminder. Looking back at Tony he promises, "Don't worry. Won't say a word."

 

Tony lets himself grin at Steve, stealing another kiss. He looks down at his tie, then lets his eyes roam all over all the places he'd bit or scratched while they were making love -he rolls his eyes at himself for even thinking that phrase- and sees that they're all fading into nothing because of Steve's serum. He doesn't... alright he pouts. He has a mark from Steve but Tony... Tony didn't get to do the same. So he takes his tie off and drapes it over Steve' shoulders. It's stupid and irrational, or at least he tells himself it is, but he wants Steve to have a mark from him.

 

Steve leans down a little, for Tony to loop the tie over his shoulders and stares down at it reverently, touching the soft silk happily. It's hard not to grin like a dweeb, but he manages to hide it as he brings Tony in for just _one last kiss_ before they leave the dark confines of this office, his hands travelling down to grope at Tony's ass before stroking up his back. "Okay, let's go find a shower."

 

Tony makes a happy little squeak that he's _NEVER_ going to admit too as Steve grabs his ass, then takes his hand and pulls him toward the nearest bathroom.


End file.
